


Under the Mistletoe

by LadySilver



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mistletoe, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/pseuds/LadySilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles makes use of seasonal traditions to get Danny's kiss. Danny has his own plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Trope Bingo prompt: Mistletoe Kiss.
> 
> Comments and concrit are always welcome.

“Seriously?” Danny asked. He looked with raised eyebrows at the cluster of leaves draped over his head then back to the triumphant smirk on the other boy’s face. It had taken him more than a few uncomfortable seconds to identify the person who had been waiting for him outside the florist, cheeks reddened with cold. The name finally came just in time for him to say, “Stiles, I’m pretty sure that’s _not_ mistletoe, and even if it is, I’m not kissing you.”

The smirk faded, a look of dejected bafflement taking over. “What? You’re an expert on all things flora now?” Stiles gestured again at the plant as if Danny hadn’t looked at it carefully enough and another go would change his answer.  “It’s Christmas time and that’s up there and we’re standing here. You have to kiss me. There are rules.”

Danny sighed and looked around, searching for some sign of anyone who could save him. Despite the shoppers who filled the sidewalks of Beacon Hills’s miniscule downtown, he saw no one he recognized, so he brought his attention back to the plant. The cluster of sharp, pointed leaves and red berries that hung from the canopy was in keeping with the seasonal decorations that bedecked the store, but little else.

In the early twilight that had already settled in, he spotted the same clusters of leaves and berries on the big, festive wreaths that lined the brick wall of the building. “It’s not mistletoe,” he concluded. “So, I don’t _have_ to do anything.”

Across from him, Stiles was tapping his foot against the sidewalk, his head nodding along to the holiday music that spilled from the speakers mounted to the streetlights. He still looked baffled, and Danny sensed that Stiles didn’t know he was moving—which fit what little Danny recalled about his classmate now that he’d thought about him for a few minutes at all.

“Are you afraid of people seeing you in public? Is it because of me? I don’t have any problem kissing in public,” Stiles assured him, as if that could be the only reason Danny was holding back. He stood up straighter and tapped his chest like he was introducing himself. “Stiles is completely A-OK with PDA.” Despite his protest, the pink flush in his cheeks crawled into his hairline and down the neck of his shirt.

The holiday season had already wreaked destruction on Danny’s willpower, and now this? Stiles’s light brown eyes glittered with a hopefulness that seemed cruel to let down. “Fine,” Danny capitulated, at the same time as he lamented his own good nature. Jackson had accused him more than once of being a pushover, and, for the first time, Danny could understand why.

Leaning over, he brushed his lips across Stiles’s cheek.

Then he stepped back, crossing his arms tight over his chest.

“Hey!” Stiles protested.

Danny held up a finger, forestalling him. “Forget it. You want a mistletoe kiss, you need mistletoe.” As soon as they slipped from his mouth, he regretted his words. Stiles’s eyes lit up and he began whipping his head around, no doubt searching for an actual sprig of mistletoe that he could drag Danny under. Despite being at a florist, there wasn’t one, as Danny had already noted.

While Stiles was distracted with his fruitless search, Danny took his opportunity to escape.

+++

“No, absolutely not,” Danny stated as Stiles lifted his eyes meaningfully toward the cardboard cut-outs of four-leaf clovers that dangled from the coffee shop ceiling. “That’s definitely not mistletoe.”

"It could be,” Stiles protested. He seemed to think about it, realized that clover and mistletoe weren’t even remotely interchangeable, and, with a roll of his shoulders, added, “Besides which, so what if it isn’t?” Now he gestured to the bright green t-shirt he wore that had the words _Kiss Me, I’m Irish_ emblazoned across the front in gold letters.

Danny shut his eyes in a bid for patience and counted to twenty in his head. Across from him, he could hear the sounds of Stiles’s fingers twining together, somehow loud over the clattering and conversation of the store. “Stilin _ski_ ,” Danny pointed out at the end of the count—emphasis on the very Polish _–ski_.

“Mahealani,” Stiles shot back, as if Danny had been affirming knowledge of Stiles’s last name and not questioning his ethnic claim. The skill with which Stiles responded to what he wanted to hear rather than what was said was almost impressive.

“You’re not Irish,” Danny commented, in what he felt was bludgeoning the point. His own t-shirt was a faded BHHS shirt that he’d deliberately pulled on because of how green it wasn’t. Far be it from him to disrespect other people’s holidays, especially one that seemed to be dedicated to drinking beer, but…

Stiles smiled broadly and swept his arms out in a gesture that encompassed everyone around them. “Come on, Danny. Everyone’s Irish today! Don’t be such a party pooper.”

Danny glanced toward the counter where his Café Americano was cooling; he swore he could smell it over the other brews that filled the air with their heavy scents and his mouth watered. He’d been up all night arguing with some code. Now his head felt heavy with fatigue, which was his excuse for leaving the house at all: some fresh air, some caffeine, a change of scenery to shake his thoughts loose. He hadn’t planned on running into Stiles, who—he really had to note—was the _last_ person who should be hanging out in coffee shops. Their time spent together as lab partners and teammates had driven that message home.

Stiles still had his chin cocked toward the shamrock display, his eyes twinkling with excitement and cunning. With a sinking feeling, Danny began to realize that Stiles had no intention of leaving until he got his kiss. This seemed to be the one topic on which Stiles had no trouble staying focused. To his surprise, Danny discovered that he was okay with that. He shook his head, cursing the lack of sleep that was affecting his judgment.

“Fine,” Danny sighed. “How can I turn down an invitation like that?” 

Stiles’s eyes widened comically, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Really?”

Danny nodded, then leaned forward and planted a loud, wet smack on Stiles’s forehead. In the second it took for Stiles to react, Danny ducked around him to grab his coffee. Thank goodness for well-trained reflexes, he thought, as his hand closed around the still-warm cup.

“That’s not fair!” Stiles called after him, his fingertips pressed to his forehead where the kiss had touched. He seemed stunned, though not in a good way.

Danny saluted him with the cup. “Luck ‘o the Irish, laddy.” _Maybe next time your luck will be better_ , he thought, then frowned into his coffee at the randomness of that thought.

+++

“Mistletoe?” Danny asked. He came to a stop at the top of the stairs in the Stilinski home, his eye immediately drawn to the sprig of green that dangled from Stiles’s doorway. The pale green leaves and white berries looked silly amidst the decals of pastel colored bunnies and painted eggs that decorated the wooden door.

“I have my sources,” Stiles answered cagily. He kicked open the door, stepped into the room to deposit his backpack, then reappeared a second later to stand right in the open doorway.

Danny dropped his own backpack to the floor against the wall. The heft of books inside thumped against the carpet, yet neither boy gave any recognition of the reminder of their study date. “Now I understand why you insisted on coming to your house.”

“I didn’t insist,” Stiles argued. “I merely suggested.”

“Repeatedly.”

Stiles conceded that with an exaggerated eyeroll. “So, what do you want to do? My dad will be home in about an hour, and then he’s going to guilt you into staying for dinner. It'll get awkward. So, I think we should start with…Chemistry.” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully, as if the double entendre needed highlighting. Danny chose to ignore it since it _was_ so obvious.

“I’d like to know where you found mistletoe this time of the year,” Danny interrupted, his curiosity on the topic striking even him as odd. He really had no vested interest in the topic, apart from the fact that Stiles was standing not-at-all-innocently under it and Danny prided himself on picking up patterns.

“I told you, I have sources,” Stiles responded. He bit his lips and ducked his eyes away, confirming that ulterior motives were in play.

From a careful distance, Danny tried to examine the plant, wanting to make sure that Stiles wasn’t trying to pull a substitution with clover or marijuana or, god forbid, poison ivy. His limited Scouts training was a few years past, but he was fairly certain that the plant really was mistletoe. He was also fairly certain that the florist did not stock mistletoe in April, what with all the space devoted to lilacs and lilies, as he knew from needing to special order the roses for his mother’s birthday.

As each second ticked by with Danny’s scrutiny on the plant, Stiles got more and more nervous and twitchy. Finally, he broke. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, running his hand over his buzzed hair before confessing, “It’s fake. I bought it from Amazon.”

Danny grinned. The amount of subterfuge told him that Stiles had been thinking about that mistletoe kiss for some time, and Danny couldn’t recall if anyone had ever been that determined to kiss him before. It was kind of flattering, especially cast as it was as happenstance, like Danny and Stiles just kept ending up under mistletoe together by accident. Never mind that the other two times had involved holly and clovers.

Sunlight streamed in the windows at the ends of the hallway, playing over the walls and carpet. So much had changed from December when this time of day had already been well into dusk and Danny had only thought about Stiles in context of Chemistry class. They hadn’t even been lab partners then, much less whatever they were now.

While Danny basked in the glow of being wanted, Stiles’s eyes flicked up to the mistletoe, over to Danny, and back to the mistletoe. Then he grumbled something under his breath and turned to retreat into his room, shoulders clenched tight.

With quick steps, Danny caught up to him. A hand on Stiles’s arm brought him to a stop. “You’re not going to give up, are you?” Danny asked.

“That’s not one of the things I’m good at,” Stiles admitted. “So, no.”

Danny let go, yet didn’t otherwise move. “Yeah, I’m catching on to that.”

Stiles waved off the sarcasm and kept right on talking like Danny hadn’t said anything. “Admitting when it’s time for a new plan, though? I can do that.”

“You don’t need a new plan,” Danny countered. He wiped his hands dry on his shorts, then clenched them against the fabric, uncertain for now where to put them.

Stiles swallowed hard. His voice pitching upwards, he asked, “I don’t?”

“The plant might be fake,” Danny replied. He brought a hand up behind Stiles’s head at the same time he leaned forward, adding: “But this isn’t.” Closing the couple inches of height difference between them, he pressed his lips to Stiles’s.

The kiss was soft and warm and slightly breathless, not at all what Danny might have imagined before it finally happened.

He felt Stiles’s knees buckle and then regain their strength. Drawing closer, Danny deepened the kiss. All the while he was thinking about how long it had taken them to get to this moment and how obvious it was now that they’d been headed this way all along. Then he let that thought slip out of his mind and concentrated only on the kiss and the Chemistry.

Above the boys was only the white surface of the bedroom ceiling.


End file.
